Within Themselves
by PowerOfFail
Summary: The King and his men must look for their own courage and not that of other races and enchanments to battle in a world where Gondor will fall to ruin, the magic will die, and tales of Elves, Wizards, Hobbits and Dwarves will become but fictitious dreams.


The time was come. The warriors knew it well and whispered it amongst themselves whenever their King could not hear them. Words of distraught and resignation flowed through the troops, and though he never heard the rumours directly, the forlorn atmosphere offered enough evidence for the King to surmise the dismal thoughts that passed between his men.

Yet the King had no encouraging words to offer that might hearten the men, to justify their loyalty to him, to their country, to this cause. He could not ask of them to fight harder and to endure more, nor could he offer them words of encouragement and preach them not relinquish hope; they needed not such consolations, they were so brave already, willing to battle for no achievable end and to their deaths, and that was a just reason to despair, thus the King saw no reason promise his men hollow truths or fault them for their distress.

His warriors were doing the duty to which they were bound as the last of his people trained in such combat, the last to wield the weapons they bore upon the journey that would undoubtedly be the end of their world.

The end of the world as it was so many long years before, when the woods of the Elves faded and their voices could be heard among those trees no more. When the stories of the Eldar people ceased to pass between the peoples of Middle-Earth, and the history of ages past was forgotten, and all the magic of the former times lost…

Where stood the black trees of old Lothlórien, a name unknown to the soldiers who faced their death in combat. Not a withered golden petal was found among the grey forest, a faint reminder of what had once been, of broken hearts and bravery, where heroes so tired from their long journeying could rest for a night before burdened by their task once more…

Where stood the vacant halls of the Dwarves, no raging fires in the hungry furnaces, desperate to be used once more. Not a harsh metallic ring to the air as hammer meets anvil, no heat to be found in the cold, black mines where weapons once were wrought, for protection and war, for death and defeat, where heroes could go to better arm themselves for the bitter road ahead…

Where stood the green hills, once alive with the little people, whose grasses are no longer attended so carefully by the quiet and unnoticed Hobbits. Not a plume of smoke rising above the hills, to be seen far off and indicate a home of the kind-hearted and trustful, where courage could be found even in the darkest of times, where when all hope was lost heroes could be called upon to fight…

Where stood the havens so grey, the ocean and its quiet murmur understood by the sea-dwelling folk, of Elves who knew the secrets of the hidden lands to the West and the shadowed world of the East. Not a billowing sail blown by the sea-winds could be seen off the shores, where the waves fell so sadly, lamenting of a world lost and heroes buried to ears that could never hear their songs.

It was this empty world for which the King and his men were going to battle. In the near-grey walls of cracked, weather-worn stone, once such pure white that would gleam in the sun's rays, where the last remnant of the magic of the old world was still but a whisper in the high courts, though largely disbelieved and dismissed as fiction.

For when the Elves turned and sailed away, so far away into the West, and when the others disappeared thither from the new age to where none now know, they took not just with them their sweet voices, but pages of history and chapters of lore that would never again be found, the tales and enchantment that lit hope in bleak nights.

And so they left, whither they went unknown, leaving behind the world to a race who would forget all else, even of the ancient and old days of glory when the world was still young; passing from memory as leaves in the wind, remembered only afar off as a dream untrue.

Thus it 'twas that with them went the magic and so it seemingly came to an end, and it was not just the end of the Elves in that Age, but the end of many races, for they hid themselves in the shadows or simply ceased to exist, and all that were left were Men, most leaderless and faithless, filled only with hate; wherein magic was lost in the minds of all save those condemned as fools who saw the tree not as a stick of timber to be crafted as a chair for his dining hall, who beheld the pebble in his hand something glorious, who stared into the depth of the pond hearing the call he did not understand, who looked upon the flowing grasses and savored the wind tickling his face, who gazed upon the sky with rapture over his head filled with silvery stars or golden sun; and so time wore on, and magic the Men forgot, and it became as if it never was in the world.

It was in this world, the very one the King and his men would fight – not for their honor or for their titles – but to keep the old world alive, where the realm of Gondor would finally fall, and the line of Lúthien would finally fail, and where all rumours of magic and the blood of the Elves would disappear entirely, the surviving magic brought to cessation and desuetude.

For, the years had passed since the last Elf had gone or died, and even longer years since Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel and the Wizard Gandalf had sailed into the West, leaving the ravaged Middle-Earth to the sons of Men. In those wearisome years, in which the blood of the Kings became so mixed that their lives became shorter, even the fell creatures began to cease roaming the lands.

The Orcs hid away, deep inside the mountains, and none ever knew what became of them. Wargs were hunted into extinction, as were many, many other of Sauron's old servant beasts, until finally the only evil and magic left in the world where that which Men could create and imagine.

The sins they created, and the evil they battled was only of their own making, only from their own minds it came, at last they were free to fight their own wars, not the wrongs of races more ancient than their own. And so they fought one another, a Man against another, one of his kin, perhaps, or of no relation at all; there were no sweet voices to sway their hearts to reason, and the evil they wrought for themselves was fought only by other Men, as it had never been before, naught of another race by their side.

If any were alive, no Dwarves showed themselves; the Elves were gone, the Wizards too, and no Hobbits could be found. The Ents were silent and even had they spoken, the edain could never hearken to them. All that remained in the vast, abandoned world were Men, and none of the still-free allied themselves with the last kingdom.

And in this age when came the issue of War, the days in which a Man's heart was kindled and warmed by tales of the magic of Elves and the powers of the Powers were gone, and they were left to find their own courage in the determination to save their people and in the stories of their forefathers.

In these dark times, diminishing Gondor stood alone; for of the two most powerful realms, Rohan had fallen first, the precious fields burned and burned, black and grey smoke ever rising, the fires for years spreading, eating away at the land while the horses fled, and the men scattered. Already by this time the North was taken, for one small dominion at a time had failed until all were utterly wasted.

Last of all stood the old realm of Gondor, broken and despairing, whose strong walls were crumbling, and whose woods were diminished. Whose voice was no longer heard among the rights and wrongs of the world, as the once-proud people stumbled with their heads down under the grey sky.

Yet still they answered the call of the distressed as well as they might, and marched onward, unto their own destruction, which they knew well was nigh at hand, and these somber warriors would strike ere the first of their host fell, determined to frustrate their enemy until the last warrior's breath had left, and his soul departed from the bloodied battlefield, leaving behind his kin, his country, and his broken body.

These were the soldiers, the last knights of Gondor, who stood by their heirless King, who could foresee the end, the end of his kingdom and his line. None could save the kingdom, for when he fell no one would be left to command the throne. He had no heirs to rule in his stead, and the house of the Stewards had failed, becoming demoralized as the days became harder and the years longer, unfaithful to the King they so promised to serve ever and always.

These were the soldiers who signified the last free kingdom, the last remnant of the old world, which was weakening and would soon die. They were relicts of a past that was never to be again, and their courage was not found in the tales of Elves and Wizards, of evil magic and good magic, of creatures fictionalized by the passing of time.

When these soldiers looked to the sky and prayed, truly they looked in themselves for the answers and bravery to fight this last battle, in which their country would perish, be buried, and with it the last songs of the ancient days.

The time was come. The King rallied his men and they rode forth, forth to face their equals, the only evil in the land that was once more left, that of their kin, of fellow Men.

No one spoke as swords were drawn. They understood that this was the end, that their gleaming swords soon to be stained red could tell no stories when finally they were gone, but they would fight, and fight on, because heroes could still be found, even when the magic was gone, the stories forgotten, and the woods silent.

* * *

**Disclaimer:: I do not own THE LORD OF THE RINGS.  
**So, I have had this one laying around for a while aaand...here it is. I mean, I know it's kinda bad and doesn't flow well, but every time I try to fix it, I get massive headaches and end up messing it up even worse -- so, my solution? Leave it be.  
Did anyone catch my Emerson shout-out? How about the shout-out to Joseph Roux? Naw? Ah well. Maybe I'll tell you later.  
Mmkay, that is all. _Reviews would be awesome. Feedback is important! Tell me what you did and did not like!_  
Hmm, anyway, my thought for the day: I watched POTC (1&2&3), King Arthur, Kingdom of Heaven, and Troy today. It has inspired a list of movies in a timeline I must now watch in a row, look: LOTR (extended edtions), Troy, King Arthur, Kingdom of Heaven, POTC, and then 1776. Aaand maybe throw some Potter and Star Trek in there.  
Awesomest. Movie. Experience...EVER.


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